


and god, too, must die

by hypophrenia



Category: Fate/Grand Order
Genre: Gen, god slapped me when i finished the first draft and told me to never touch a keyboard again, if i don't write something meta once in a while my bones break, my bad writing returns! awful, this just in: i mention god too much for someone not religious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 06:27:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17401736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hypophrenia/pseuds/hypophrenia
Summary: In hindsight, every single late night Tumblr post about chugging coffee and energy drinks and meeting God had probably been a warning.





	and god, too, must die

**Author's Note:**

> i got angra mainyu a few days after finishing the first draft (aka like a month ago) and he's grailed to 90 rn (not 100 because my boy izou gets that right)
> 
> can't believe i'm writing for fgo now i vaguely miss my danganronpa days kodaka please come back
> 
> but anyways i'm looking for someone willing to friend me on fgo to use my angra mainyu to give me fp hmu if ur interested :eyes: i'll kick whoever hasn't finished solomon off my friendslist for u

Chaldea’s master is in the middle of explaining something to Avenger when she freezes up and makes a half-hearted attempt to claw her eyes out before settling down.

Edmond Dantes raises an eyebrow. “You were saying, Master?” She stares at him, taps the side of her head, and reaches out to cup his cheek.

“Haha, Komaeda.” Her voice comes out a little croaky, and she pinches his cheek without any thinking, fingers digging in a little too harshly. “It’s Edgemaeda.”

“What?” There is something rather irritating about her now, Edgemaeda thinks. She’s assuming so anyways, judging by the tenseness and hostility he’s oozing.

“Nothing. I gotta go, um, bother Mama Emiya.”

His eyes narrow. “We don’t...have that servant, if that’s what you’re trying to imply.”

“ _Shit_.” She considers running. Her hand’s still pinching Edgemaeda’s cheek, though, so she milks it for all it’s worth. “So, is it fingers in his ass Sunday?”

“ _What?_ ” And before the one and only Fujimaru Ritsuka can laugh it off, her eyes roll back into her head and she topples backwards instantly, crashing onto the floor with a sickening crack. 

It’s better than dry heaving, at least.

\---

“I heard from Avenger you were acting weird, Senpai,” says Mash Kyrielight. “Is everything okay? Were you tired again?”

“Yeah.” She’s still lying down, arms folded over her chest like a well-molded corpse. The blanket’s calling for her in a siren’s voice, claiming dominance over a poor soul. 

“Get some rest, then, Senpai.”

She sits up, the spell broken. “Oh, wait, no. I gotta do my...master stuff.”

It’s Mash’s turn to look amazingly nonplussed. “You mean going on missions and getting to know your servants better?”

“Yes. That.”

“Well, if you’re feeling up to it… Dr. Roman also wanted to see you for a checkup.”

Ritsuka climbs out of bed, dusting off her clothes. “Actually...I’m busy with going on missions and getting to know my servants better. You know, master stuff.”

Mash sighs. “Okay, I’ll let him know, then.”

“Thank you very much. I’d do it myself, but I’m...uh, busy. Yeah, busy.” With a final professional nod, she walks out of the room, only to pop her head back in right after.

She clears her throat. “So, just to jog your memory, what was the last singularity we finished up?”

Mash’s stare says so much, yet so little. “We finished Camelot a while ago. You should know this, Senpai.”

“I did! I was just, you know, making sure you knew. Yeah. Okay, bye.” She leaves without a second thought. Next agenda: figure out how rayshifting works.

She catches Waver out of the corner of her eye and remembers something very special. A unique...bonding moment.

Scratch that. Next agenda: vent.

“Hey!” She wastes no time approaching that special someone. “Long time no see.”

“We...went rayshifting yesterday.” Well, at least she kept him in his second ascension. The suit looks sharp on him, and the sight alleviates the slight embarrassment.

“Yes, it’s been a very long time. Waver—”

“Master.” His expression is very stern. “I would advise you never to use that name.”

But she had kept him in his younger form for, like, a whole month!

“...yes. Lord Ell-Mell—Lord Elly-Melly—Lord El-Melloi, are—”

“Lord El-Melloi the _second_.”

“Mister Sir Lord El-Melloi the _second_ , are we maybe bond ten?”

“What?”

“I said, Mister Sir Lord—” He waves her off. 

“No, I heard you. What does bond ten mean? Is this code for something?”

She pauses, thinks. Decides it’s really not worth the trouble. “Oh, it’s nothing. I’ll go do something else. See you on the next rayshift!”

“Hey, wait!” she pauses mid-step, already having made the decision to flee. "At least give me a break! I've been going on rayshifts with you every single day!"

"Sorry, Waver!"

"Don't call me—" She speeds up, escaping the vicinity before she can hear the rest of what's probably evolving into a killer lecture.

But in light of the El-Melloi II disaster, she realizes she’s got a second, hopefully more sympathetic target. It takes her a trek around the entire faculty to find just the man she’s looking for, camping out in the cafeteria. 

“What’s up, my boy?”

“Did you get possessed or something?”

“Or something,” she says. She walks over and sits down across from him, flattening her skirt under her legs. “So. Let’s say, hypothetically, in a pretend scenario—”

“Are you trying to ask me for advice?” Angra Mainyu has no right sounding this disgruntled, incredulous, and exasperated at once. It’s just plain bullying. “Master, as you might know, I’m the last person you should be asking.”

“I have justification!” she hurriedly says. Without any bit of actual thinking or hesitation, she continues. “My dear Shirou-face, we’re bond ten, right?”

The wheels turn in his head. “You got me killed way too many times trying to put me on the frontlines, yeah. Do you know how painful it was?”

"Nothing you aren't used to," she offhandedly says, remembering a different lifetime for him. She shakes off the thought. “But you still gave me your bond ce, right?”

“...yeah, I did.”

“Great! So let’s say you, hypothetically, and I’m not at all saying this is me, but you just happen to—”

“Are you really going to do this?” He’s trying to wriggle out of it, she just knows it. “I’m really not the person you should be talking to about, well, anything.”

So she sighs, and decides maybe it’s okay to start smashing down what little remained of that thin barrier keeping her from destroying the world on accident. “My darling servant, the no star child I never knew I had, the one thing that kept me reading Hollow Ataraxia besides best wife—actually, can you see what I’m getting at?”

Big, wide smile. “No.”

“Well, my sweet baby boy, Angry Manju, I think it’s high time someone understood my plights and that’s only going to be you.”

“You’re really going to vent to me?”

Ritsuka makes a half grumble, half whine in her throat. “Think of it as payment for grailing you.”

“Which I didn’t need! If only you saw what happened to the grails you shoved in my arms—”

“It was for you! I was crying the entire time!”

“As you should be! I flooded your room and the hallway and Pops burst into the room and tried to shoot me! Oi, you definitely should’ve known nothing good would’ve happened!”

“Grails are for love! If she doesn’t get your peepee up, don’t give her the cup!”

Only now did he fall silent in the most foreboding of ways. “Master, that’s kind of messed up. Objectifying women for your own sexual gratification now?”

“That’s not exactly valid coming from _your_ mouth.”

“So now we’re going to—you know what? You win, master. Just go ahead and rant. I promise you, though, I won’t be giving you any good advice.”

“Thank you.” Clearing her throat, she prepared her words, trying to think of the most vague way to phrase it. And then she gave up. “So I’m really, really worried about Solomon. The singularity, not the person. And the person, actually.”

“Ah,” Angra says helpfully, though it’s sarcastic enough to be recognized as him just saying something in an attempt to get her to give up. She ignores it, of course.

“And _maybe_ I’ve been avoiding a certain someone. You know, just cause.”

“Mhm.”

“And it sucks ass, actually. I want to run over and, I don’t know, braid his hair or something. But I’ll just break down in tears like a pussy and end up running away and breaking a leg or something.”

“Okay, master, I’ll stop you there.” Master. Ritsuka pulls a smile onto her face, though it’s bitter as can be.

“You understand this much of what I’m talking about, right? You don’t need to call me Master.”

To that, Angra smiles back with his dumb, foolish, callous yet childlike smile. “But you’re my master right now, yeah?”

“...yeah.”

“And listen; I’ve got nothing good to tell you. But this body I’m borrowing’s got a mind of its own.”

“Okay, and what does Shirou say?”

He sighs. “You really have no problems with breaking out the spoilers, don’cha, Master?”

“It’s a good thing. And anyways, tell me what our favorite Hero of Justice says.”

“You’re so impatient. But Emiya Shirou says to stop being a little bitch and go talk to your obvious crush.”

She presses a hand to her heart mockingly, but with an overwhelming amount of contradictory authenticity. “Emiya Shirou would _never_ call me a little bitch.”

“Yeah, that part’s all me.”

The hand falls from her chest. “Well, if he says so, guess I have to do it. But remember; just because you’re correct doesn’t mean you’re right.”

“Do you get off to making references?”

“Probably.” She gets up, sighing heavily and dramatically. “Well, I better go do that before I lose my nerve.”

“Have fun being an idiot.” He’s nice as always; still, she wouldn’t change him for Merlin or Skadi or any new meta-breaking servant. It’s love that motivates her most, anyways. Had Bazett not been so absolutely lovable, Angry Manju would’ve been forever stuck at his first ascension with a brilliant skill lineup of 1/1/1 instead of 6/6/6.

She steps slowly, carefully, before Angra's knowing stare forces her to at least walk at her normal pace. She leaves behind the cafeteria mumbling about how much she's going to regret this decision.

Walking to Roman’s office feels like an eternity of shame, suffering, and regret. It’s awful. She’s beginning to lose her nerve, but the thought of a burning-hot phone the day before Christmas and a lonely fight to the death with Goetia gives pause to her desire to flee.

Okay. She can do this. It’s just a few words to a man she’ll likely never see again. Just the upheaval of a mountain of regrets way back from 2016, when all she could read were the translations of a grand story she had tried to piece together through cutscenes and character sprites.

A door. Okay. No backing out now. And just to reinforce that idea, she knocks twice and waits with her hands behind her back. 

“Come in,” calls a certain voice, and she does with the most reluctance she’s ever shown in any life. Roman jolts a little when he sees her sheepishly appear from behind the door. “I thought Mash said you were busy?”

“I got my master business sorted out,” she admits, stepping closer. She walks step by step, slow and steady, afraid of getting too close and breaking the bubble. Destroying the illusion. “Can we talk?”

He blinks. “Oh, sure. Was there something you wanted to talk about?”

She opens her mouth, tries to find words to sort out her residual feelings. She remembers a game, a story, emotions that shouldn’t come from words on a screen. There’s too much to be said, time running out by the second, slipping through her fingers. She wonders, maybe not for the last time, if what she’s going to do is the right thing.

“You—King Solomon—” Her words are so clumsy. They stumble over themselves, tripping and fumbling with the grace of a newborn fawn. Deep breath. “Romani Archaman!”

He jumps this time. “Y-yes? Me, King Solomon, what did you want to…” 

She’s not going to cry. She isn’t crying. “The year’s gonna end soon.”

“W-well, yes, I’d hope so? Is everything okay, Ritsuka?” She’s Ritsuka; but she’s not, and the moment she begins to understand that is when it all starts unraveling, thread by thread.

“If you had a choice, if you could rethink everything...that future you saw, in Fuyuki. Would you want to not have seen it?”

He’s sitting, she’s standing, and when she looks down to meet his eyes she starts seeing, just a bit, the kind of person who chose to erase himself from the Throne of Heroes just for a tiny chance. He’s there in the smile he gives her now, and she realizes she was an idiot for even asking in the first place when the answer’s right there.

“I wouldn’t.”

“You’re scared.” It’s not a question; she remembers, in memories that are coming to her faster and easier, what kind of person he was at the end. What kind of words he said.

“Of course I am. But you understand, right? If it’s for Fujimaru Ritsuka, if it’s for humanity, then this is nothing.”

A coward, but brave until the very end. She doesn’t think she could’ve done it, faced death with such a sweet smile.

But it’s just a dream. She’s starting to see it break down, this world that could only live as long as she remained asleep. And with a smile on her part, she leans down and hugs the figment of her imagination, an illusion of simple words she loved, once.

“I love you,” she tells him, chaste and sweet. There’s no response. Of course there isn’t. He’s already gone, and she can already feel her thoughts slipping away as easily as the space around her does, fading from a doctor’s room to the red of illuminated blood, light filtering through eyelids.

And then the person who was most definitely not Fujimaru Ritsuka, not the master of Chaldea, and not the savior of humanity wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes.

Some master. Some dream. With a grimace, she turns over in her bed, eyes closing once more, hoping to doze off and find her way back into a simple fabrication of her mind.

She never dreams of it again.


End file.
